Russian Roulette
by Spaghetti13
Summary: A songfic centering around Prussia and Russia during the time of the Berlin Wall. Includes genderbent!Russia and slightlyOOC!Prussia. Based on "This Suffering" by Billy Talent. Rated T to be safe.


_**Date Written: **September 17, 2011_

_**Word Count: **1 359_

_**Summary: **A songfic centering around Prussia and Russia during the time of the Berlin Wall. Includes genderbent!Russia and slightlyOOC!Prussia. Based on "This Suffering" by Billy Talent. Rated T to be safe._

_**Warnings:** Slightly-sadistic!Russia and slightlyOOC!Prussia, plus some not-so-accurate history._

_**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and "This Suffering" by Billy Talent both do not belong to me._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Like a target drawn across my chest<br>She's a bullet in Russian Roulette**_

That girl was a menace. Hot yes, but a menace all the same. I can't think of her as attractive, even now all these years later. Because I saw exactly who she was, what she was hiding behind that cutesy grin and innocent violet eyes. We all knew of course, but most of us never knew the _extent_ of her insanity, especially during that time. Those of us who lived with her for that period never spoke of what we saw. It was too much. Contrary to popular believe, time _does not _heal every single wound. All that's left is scars now, on both my body and my mind. And what's one more scar to add to the myriad I already have from fighting in my youth?

After only a few weeks of living with her, she already knew where to hit me so that it hurt the most. Both with her pipe and with her words. There is one scar that I can't bear to look at, even though it healed oh so many years ago. It was from the first time she hit me and it retained the shape of the water pipe that she had hit me with. Ever since that first time, that's where she would aim for when she wanted to 'play' with me. And she never missed.

She always knew where to find me too. It did not matter where I hid, I could have hidden halfway across the world, she would find me and bring me back. As if I could escape in the first place. I never saw the outside of her house; I barely even saw the sunlight. It felt like I was dying, over and over again. The assaults with a pipe did not help that feeling either. The worst part was when she would start laughing, that strange little 'kolkolkolkol' she repeated with each hit. And the innocent smile that she wore every single time. Had I been in a different place, or not lived with her for this long, I could have sworn that she was not the one coming after me with a pipe.

_**You said you'd never turn your back on me  
>Rescue me, rescue me<br>Would you stand by me or bury me?  
>Bury me<strong>_

One of the only things that I kept me going during that time was the thought of my brother. The kid that I had found lying on a battlefield, covered in blood. Grown up now, and no longer needing my protection. Nevertheless, I still needed to survive and get back to him somehow. Plus, I couldn't let that Russian bitch keep the awesome me contained like this. I was convinced that my brother would come and get me, rescue me. Not that I needed to be rescue, just she was…strong. Stronger than me, believe it or not.

Time passed in that place and I started having my doubts. As I gained more and more wounds that would only scar over time, I started losing my trust in my brother. Had he not been one of the ones to send me here in the first place? What made me so sure that he would fight for me now? Especially after all that had happened, I did not even know if he had recovered from everything. My trust started slipping more and more, until I could barely even trust myself. I knew it was her fault, but I could not shake that feeling that I would be stuck here forever, constantly enduring her 'games', never leaving this place. Never being rescued.

_**Why don't we end this lie?  
>I can't pretend this time<br>I need a friend to find  
>My broken mind before it falls to pieces<strong>_

With the loss of trust, I started finding myself falling deeper and deeper into insanity. It was increasingly harder to keep that arrogant smirk pasted onto my face, to even fight back in the only way I could: with my words. I knew that she saw it too, and she liked it. She started coming around more, always with pipe in hand and childish smile smeared across her features. I could tell that she_ wanted_ me to go insane, she _wanted _me to break. My mind started spiralling downwards, cracking and splintering. I knew I had to get out of here before it shattered completely. I would never be broken. I couldn't. I just couldn't let it happen to me.

_**Every time  
>You tried to leave me blind<br>You'll never close my eyes  
>You'll never close my eyes and watch me die<strong>_

That was when I started fighting back physically. She was stronger than me and always would be, plus she had her pipe (and sometimes a pick-axe), but I fought her anyways. By that time I was desperate, desperate to be free and desperate to stay sane. Because I could feel my mind, my control, slipping out of my reach every time she came to find me. I hated her 'games' and I hated her for doing this to me. I hated myself for letting her get to me, and I hated that I had started to lose my trust in everything. Granted, I had never trusted easily in the first place, but when I started to see my doubts in my brother…I knew something was _not _right. And it was all her fault.

But, if there was one thing that I was proud of, it was that she never managed to keep me down. Even if she knocked me unconscious, I would be back on my feet and ready to fight the next time she came around. Even if my mind was slowly splintering under her trusty pipe, I kept fighting. Because that's who I was, and I _never_ gave up. At least, not visibly. In truth, I _had_ started to lose hope, slowly. I still had that determination, that strength that one might call stubbornness. And there was _no way _I was about to let her break me down.

_**And when she spins the bottle round and round  
>Every time it leaves me gagged and bound<strong>_

She started coming around with different intentions in mind. The torture with the pipe and her cruel taunts, those I could stand. But this…this was different. It was_…degrading_, and it made me furious. And petrified of her. My stay in her house…it was changing me. It was making me even more distrustful, even more stubborn, and even more fearful. I never knew what she was thinking, but that was the one reason why I can hardly stand to be in her presence. Even my own brother doesn't know everything that happened in that house, and I plan on keeping it that way. Some things are just too humiliating…or bring back too many bad memories.

_**Every time  
>You tried to leave me blind<br>You'll never close my eyes**_

I could hardly believe it when I was told that the wall was being taken down. I could hardly believe it when I was told that I was free to leave. To walk out those doors of my own free will, to see the _sunlight_ again. But they finally convinced me that they were telling the truth, even _she _said that it was truth (albeit with a sour look). And that was the best feeling in the world. Knowing that I had no reason to be scared anymore, knowing that I had no reason to hide my emotions and thoughts.

I can remember feeling so damn smug as I walked past that bitch on my way out of her house. It would take me a long time to go back to normal, and even then I wasn't ever completely myself. But just being able to walk out…pure bliss. And being able to watch the innocence on her face being replaced by murderous fury as I walked by made everything even better. I can remember the last thing I said to her, as I walked through the door.

_**"You'll never close my eyes and watch me die."**_


End file.
